Ten Times Fast

by Mallory Lopez

  “I carried you up here and put you in that,” he says, sheepishly.

  I’m not sure which horrifies me more:

  Brett carrying me all the way upstairs and seeing me practically naked

  Or

  The fact that I just puked directly into his palms and it barely fazed him.

  I slowly nod my head, beginning to process everything.

  “You need to shower.”

  He tips my legs over the bed so my feet dangle. Without saying a word, he grabs my waist and lifts me until I’m balanced on both feet. I quietly and obediently let him raise my arms and peel my oversized shirt over my head, leaving me in only my bra and underwear. I don’t have the energy to be embarrassed. Also, he apparently has already seen me this naked just a handful of minutes ago. He takes my hand, leads me to the bathroom, and turns the faucet on. He sets a towel on the hook by the shower. Steam begins to matriculate as he walks out closing the door gently behind him.

  From my toes all the way up through my jaw, I’m trembling. I rotate the lever so it points to the furthest red and beg for the scorching water to yank me from this catatonic state. The burning water pulls me out enough for me to wash myself, my hair and brush my teeth.

  Leaving my bathroom with my towel around me, I find Brett sitting on my bed. My eyebrows furrow, closely examining his fat lip and darkened eye. Without thinking, I walk to him and stand between his knees on the edge of the bed. I raise my shaky hand to the side of his face and delicately brush my thumb under his eye. I trace my fingers down to find his lip. He stares intently up at me. I lower my head to graze my lips across his black cheekbone. He steals a sharp intake of air and swallows hard. With my hand still touching his face, I lower my lips and we taste each other ever so slightly. He pulls away.

  “Let’s go to the hospital. I’ll leave you to get dressed,” he says, standing up. He gently kisses my cheek.

  “Hey,” I say so he turns back to look at me. “Thank you.”

  He lightly chuckles and retorts, “For you, Bean? Anything.” He winks and closes the door behind him.

  CHAPTER 27

  “RAMONA! ARE YOU THERE? Are you okay?” Dad shouts one hundred miles an hour as soon I put the phone to my ear.

  “I’m here. I’m aah-oh-kay,” I manage to say through a yawn.

  “Are you sure? Brett texted me saying you fainted. He said you were okay but are you okay?”

  “Dad–”

  “Do you need to go to the hospital? Where are you? Did you see a doctor?” He’s still shouting, his voice is hoarse and his questions sound connected like they’re all one word.

  “Yes, Dad, I’m fine. No, I didn’t see the doctor but I’m okay. Brett and I are on the way to the hospital right now. We’re pulling into the parking lot,” I tell him, rubbing the dried tears off of my eyes.

  “Okay. Are you sure you don’t have a concussion? You know you can’t sleep if you have one–” His voice cracks.

  “Dad, I didn’t hit my head. I fainted while I was on the floor. My head is fine. We’re going to check on Mom–”

  “Promise me that you will go to the hospital if you feel faint or dizzy.”

  “I promise.” He exhales a sigh of relief and finally slows his words and lowers his voice.

  “Thank you.” He breathes in sharply through his nose for a moment, trying to rest his heart rate, I’m sure. “The social worker at the hospital called me. Her name is Angela Johnson. Ask for her when you get there. I don’t know if they’ll let you see Mom. Mrs. Johnson didn’t tell me much but she will be okay. She said Mom is sleeping and she’s under watch.”

  I begin sobbing, thankful that she’ll be okay. Brett wraps his around my shoulders.

  “I’m coming home but there’s no flight this late so I got a ticket for the first flight in the morning. I’ll be home by 10AM. Can Brett drop you off at the Wilder’s house? I don’t want you staying alone. Bean? I can hear you breathing. I need you to calm down. You’re breathing too fast. You’re going to hyperventilate. Are you listening? I need you to listen carefully, okay?”

  My breaths are shallow and I can’t stop sniffling. I can’t go to the Wilder’s house. Not right now. Not when Veronica hates me. I cry louder, Brett pulls me closer and rubs my back trying to calm me.

  “Y–Yes, I–I’m l–l–listening,” I choke out.

  “Sweetheart, I know this is scary but I need to make sure you understand me, okay? Do not go home alone. Are we clear, Ramona? For the love of God, do not go home alone,” he reiterates. I close my eyes and collect myself.

  “I–I w–won’t.”

  “I need you to calm down and breath. Can you put Brett on the phone?”

  “Y–Yes. D–Dad? I m–miss you. Please c–come ho–home.”

  “Sweetie.” I hear his heart break from 2,000 miles away. I hear him gently weep, trying hard to keep it together. “I–I love you, sweetheart. I swear to God I’m going to be home as soon as I possibly can. After you check on Mom, please go and get some rest. I love you. Everything’s going to be okay, sweet Bean. I promise,” his voice hitches. He blows out a shaky breath. “Pass the phone to Brett now. I love you,” he tells me again, his voice cracking.

  “I love you, t–too.” I pass the phone to Brett. He looks confused and hesitant but he takes the phone anyway.

  “Hello? Hi, Mr. Scott. Yeah, we’re in the waiting room now. Yeah, she’s okay. The EMTs made sure she was okay. I will. Yes, I understand. Yes, I promise. I’ll take care of her. Okay. Bye, Mr. Scott.” He hangs up the phone, passes it back to me, and then wraps his arms around me from behind, pressing my back against his chest.

  “Everything’s going to be okay, Ramona. Breathe with me.” I close my eyes and do as he says. He nuzzles his head into my neck and muffles out, “It’s going to be all right. I’ve got you.”

  ***

  WE’VE BEEN SITTING IN the waiting room for thirty minutes, waiting for the social worker to come and tell us how my mom’s doing. A nurse was nice enough to give Sherlock Holmes three ice packs for his eye, lip and hand. They are now being held to his face simultaneously with one hand, making his entire face hidden behind sweating white plastic pouches. Little water droplets float down his knuckles and shine in between his fingers. The other pack is on his hand in his lap, leaking moisture on to a peculiar area of his pants that will make it awkward when he stands. I’m not sure if he notices but for the sake of my entertainment, I’m not going to tell him.

  “Hi, Ms. Scott? And...Mr. Holmes?” A lady in blue scrubs with smooth dark skin, high cheekbones and hair in braids that are pulled up comes walking toward us. I’m glad to see that she has a sense of humor. If she’s making jokes the news can’t be bad.

  “It’s Ramona.” Upon closer inspection, her shockingly dark forest green eyes are sunken and look as if they have not rested for quite some time. Even with tired features, she’s actually quite stunning.

  “Ramona, I’m Angela Johnson, a social worker here at the hospital. I checked on your mother and she is doing better. The doctors put a few stitches in her head where she hit it. They don’t know exactly what she overdosed on––if it was just alcohol or pills and alcohol but either way, we cannot give her any kind of narcotic pain medication. We are also holding her here for seventy-two hours. I’ve spoken with your father and he knows all of this.”

  “Three days? What for? Can I see her?” I’m already getting irritated with this lady due to the amount of times she’s dropped the term “overdose” as if my mom was trying to kill herself, which she most certainly wasn’t. This woman in blue pajamas clearly knows nothing about my mom.

  “She will receive psychiatric treatment and go through detox. Depending on her level and dependency and for what substance, it could be very painful for her. She might even become violent with other people or with herself. You won’t be able to see her until she’s released in three days. This is for her health and safety as well as those around her, Ramona.”

  “Psychiat
ric treatment? She’s not crazy or violent. I need to see her. You have to let me in, I’m her daughter!” My voice rises to the tone of a whining child who is mere seconds away from kicking and screaming on the floor. I feel the pressure from Sherlock’s cold hand on my shoulder trying to ground me. She seems to be unfazed by my reaction.

  “I know sweetheart and you will see her but for now, she needs to be one hundred percent focused on herself, her body and her recovery. Ramona, if you hadn’t come home when you did, there’s a very good chance your mother could have slipped into a coma or died. You saved her life. I know it’s scary and intense but she will get better. The best thing for you to do now is to go home and get some sleep. I’ll be in contact with your dad about her release. It’s going to be okay, Ramona. We’ll take very good care of her. Go home and get rest.” Everything she says floats out of her mouth with such assurance I have no choice but to believe her and do as she says. I don’t like it one bit but I have no choice.

  She starts to walk away then halts with her finger in the air. “And Sherlock, take some ibuprofen and keep icing. Your face is going to be mighty sore in the morning.”

  Sherlock grimaces and throws his now less-than-chilled ice packs away and takes my hand. “Come on, let’s go home.”

  “Fine,” I pout. “Please take me home. I can’t go to Veronica’s house,” I exasperate. He doesn’t ask questions he just simply nods. “And Brett?”

  “Yeah?” He looks at me hesitantly, his shoulders tensing.

  “Your hand is really cold,” I tell him as I pull my hand from his and wipe the water on my jeans. He relaxes and chuckles.

  We walk out bumping shoulders and stealing glances at each other.

  ***

  WHEN WE GET HOME, I don’t ask Brett to stay, but I want him to and he does. It’s like he made a silent agreement to take care of me and I made a silent agreement to let him. Neither one of us questions it. We simply do it as if there is no other option.

  In my room, I put on another pajama shirt that isn’t covered in any hazardous liquids. Sherlock Holmes finally takes off his hat, jacket and shirt leaving Brett in his place. I forgot about the scar on the right side of his tummy. He tried to jump a chain link fence when we were kids. He got stuck and fell but not before the fence cut through his shirt to snag him and leave him with a decent gash in his side. I remember how much it bled and how we all thought his guts were going to start popping out. He had to go and get stitches. The scar is now a light pink puff about two inches long.

  He chuckles and asks, “Do you remember that?”

  My cheeks flush with embarrassment from getting caught peeking at his body. I smile, knowing that we were both thinking the same thing. “Yes, I remember.”

  “I was so scared but trying to act all tough, like it didn’t hurt.”

  I laugh for the first time in what feels like years. “You kept denying that you weren’t crying but it was so obvious.”

  “You let me lean on you all the way back to my house, remember? Jimmy hates blood and almost passed out. I used my shirt to soak up the blood. Veronica ran ahead to tell my mom.”

  “That’s right! I completely forgot about that part.” My eyes are lost in memory until Brett catches my eyes with his serious gaze.

  “You saved me, Ramona Bean Scott.” He gravitates to me until he is close enough to brush a piece of my hair off my face. His touch weakens my senses and his close proximity starts to take my breath away.

  “And now you saved me, Brett Reese Dixon.” His grimace makes me smile. I know he hates his middle name. “It’s not a bad middle name, Brett. It’s actually kind of cute.”

  He grins flirtatiously. “Yeah? Cute?” His eyes are down watching his fingers play with the hem of my shirt, which ends at my upper thighs.

  I grin and decide to pay along. “Yeah. It’s really cute,” I say as I run my fingers along the edge of his pants that hang low on his hips.

  He slides his hands up my shirt a few inches then whispers in my ear. My heart skips a million beats and my body radiates heat in anticipation. “Plenty of time for this later. Let’s go to sleep.” I groan and rest my forehead against his chest and shake my head. He’s such a tease.

  He laughs and leads me under the covers.

  We fall asleep together in my bed with him holding me. The warmth from his chest and arms seeps into me and creates waves of calm. The rise and fall of his chest and sound of his breath against me is the reassurance I need to fully relax. I can almost feel his heartbeat and I know I’m not alone, I know he won’t leave me. Simply having him hold me revives my soul.

  I’ve just fallen in love with Brett Dixon.

  This is what it feels like to be home.

  I fall asleep to my mind playing Bridge Over Troubled Water[14]...

  Brett Dixon

  Saturday 11/2

  Mr. Chan, you would not believe the last 24 hours I’ve had. Where do I even begin? I can’t believe any of it was real.

  I beat the shit crap out of Ryan Applebaum. Well, Jimmy and I beat the sh crap out of Ryan. Ok well, I hit Ryan, he hit me twice, but one was a sucker punch, and then Jimmy stepped in and decked him good. Turns out, the kid does know how to punch.

  Jimmy, Ryan, and I all got suspended for three days starting Monday. I feel really bad about Jimmy getting suspended. He says he doesn’t care but I know he’s worried that the colleges will find out when he applies. I’ll try and talk to Mr. Dirks to see if he can let Jimmy come back early.

  I was sitting in my car about to drive home after we got kicked out of the dance when Ramona called me. She was screaming bloody murder, something about her mom. She kept yelling help so I called 911. I sped my ass all the way to her house, swollen, throbbing black eye and all. I thought my heart was going to explode. I’ve never been so scared in my life.

  The ambulance got there right before I did. They were putting her mom on a stretcher and her mouth was all black from charcoal. I guess they were trying to make her puke. She was awake––barely, but still awake. The inside of the house looked like a murder crime scene from CSI. It was the scariest thing I’ve ever seen.

  Then I saw Ramona on the floor and before I could panic too much, the other paramedic told me that Ramona was fine. She just had a panic attack and passed out and they told me to move her to a bed and that she would wake up soon but if anything else happens to take her to the hospital.

  I carried her to her room and peeled her clothes off. You may think that sounds sexy or exciting but I’m telling you, Mr. Chan, it was the grossest thing I’ve ever done. Her leggings and felt rock costume were all covered in blood and puke. I threw a big shirt on her. Pretty much right after that she woke up...

  And then puked in my hands.

  At that point, I didn’t even really mind that much. If that’s not love, I don’t know what is.

  After she showered, she walked up and started touching my face and kissed me. It felt so good to have her looking at me the way she did. Like she’s in love with me. I had to pull away though. It just didn’t seem right to be kissing her when her thoughts and emotions were all over the place.

  I took her to the hospital and her mom was up in the psychiatric ward but we weren’t allowed to see her. Every time the nurse said overdose Ramona turned green. I’m not sure if she’s embarrassed that I know about her mom being an addict. I didn’t want to push her to talk about it because she was in her thoughts the whole time. She probably can’t even process all of this. I don’t blame her.

  I held her while we fell asleep and it took everything in me again to not grope her. I know, I know that sounds bad but I have hormones and sometimes they suck. But honestly, I was so tired I fell asleep almost instantly.

  We woke up with barely enough time for me to get dressed and bounce out the door before her Dad was supposed to be home. I’m sure she needs time with her family right now but damn, I want to see her again as soon as humanly possible.

  I won’t see her at school because
I’m suspended until Thursday. Hopefully she’ll want to see me before then because I NEED to see her before then.

  If I wasn’t totally sure before, I am now...I love her.

  And I think she might love me back.

  CHAPTER 28

  FINDING OUT YOUR PARENTS are imperfect is like finding out that Santa Claus isn’t real. My parents falling off the pedestal I put them on is creating a heavy disappointment in my heart and mind. I really didn’t know how I would feel when I saw my dad.

  Now, with him here in front of me in his fitted jeans, purple button-up shirt with a loose tie and fancy shoes, I still don’t know how I feel. His hair is messy the way it usually is on Sunday mornings when he doesn’t bother to brush it. His eyes carry bags far less hip than his travel suitcase and his body is slouching in a way that I haven’t seen since the last time he was horribly sick with the flu.

  He is undeniably exhausted.

  Well dressed, sure, but uncharacteristically devoid of life.

  His luggage makes a loud thunk as he drops it immediately upon walking through the door and embraces me.

  “Ramona...” He hugs me as if I narrowly escaped a fiery building and nearly died. I’m tense at first, but his grip is so tight that my eyes begin to sting and I have to hug him back, to make sure he’s really here. “Ramona, I–I’m so sorry.” His voice is hoarse and uneven.

  He breaks the hug to push me an arms length away so he can study me. “Are you okay? Have you had any dizzy spells?” The words spill out of his mouth like they’re on fire. His hands move to grip the sides of my head so concretely that I can barely nod my head.

  “I’m okay.” He relaxes his hands and his arms engulf me again, kissing the top of my head like he’s done a thousand times before. He’s not devoid of life he’s just run down by it. Plowed down by life is more like it. His bloodshot eyes and trembling hands tell me that he’s every bit as scared as I am.

  “The hospital said they talked to you. I don’t get it, Dad. It was just an accident, right? She just took her medication and accidentally drank too much, right?” Even as the questions fly out of my mouth I know I sound naïve. He sits at the table and motions for me to sit with him. He runs his hand through his messy hair and his eyes become glossy.